Page 25 of In This Moment

Chapter Seven

They’d spent the entire following day writing articles, organizing the Friday edition, and coordinating efforts. Emails were scheduled. Files were off to the printers. All the comic boxes were filled with prints of old editions to sell, thanks to Scarlett and Dorothy, who’d copied endlessly and put them into sleeves. The podium counter behind the glass display case now had one of the spare computers with an accounting program so they could ring up purchases, and a cash drawer, all courtesy of Forest’s help. The Gazette was ready for the big reveal tomorrow morning.

Rebecca was stupid excited.

Forest, the night before, had broached the idea to Graham to begin restocking the sidewalk newspaper boxes around town again. Rebecca had no idea when they’d stopped, but Forest thought it had been at least five years. It had taken Graham an hour of finagling to get the ten boxes reset on price and another hour to figure out who’d fill them each morning from the printing press. Funniest part had been discovering a little over thirty-five dollars in quarters still sitting in the machines.

It was a great idea, however, Scarlett had pointed out most people may not notice with as long as they’d been empty. Thus, Graham had printed signs in bold colors and laminated them to affix to the outside of the boxes. Currently, they were sitting on his desk between him and Rebecca because they hadn’t wanted to put them out too early.

Graham had also suggested adding a slot box up front for townsfolk to drop their pet or weather pics and kid art for the folks who didn’t email them. After a run to the store, said box was attached to the building beside the door under the awning.

She slouched in the seat across from his desk, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.” And sore. Dark had descended sometime an hour ago.

“Ditto. I can’t feel my fingers.”

She laughed. “I like your idea for a Healthy Report section. It’s smart, getting tips from the medical clinic every day.” The nearest hospital was in Savannah, but Vallantine did have an urgent care and physician’s office. A good chunk of citizens didn’t get a yearly check-up. His first article for tomorrow was signs of a heart attack and what to do.

“Appreciate it. All the concepts we knocked around, and it seemed fitting.” He paused. “I like your ideas for a Recipe addition. We might get subscribers for that alone.”

After calling and emailing this morning, she’d run home during a break to get Gammy’s recipe for peach pie. “We did good, boss.”

“Thanks to you. We make a good team.”

“That we do.” She sighed. “It wasn’t just me.”

“No, it wasn’t. Your friends were very helpful. I like them.”

She smiled, and even that took effort. “Me, too. But I mean that we used your ideas as well as everyone’s. It was a coordinated effort.”

“Again, thanks to you.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she rolled his answer around, and didn’t like the way it sat heavy in her head. “I was raised in Vallantine, so I know the town and what they’d be looking for, but you were handed a broken system. Fixing it wasn’t as simple as adding filler or more articles. Yes, I helped, but don’t underestimate yourself. A good editor listens to suggestions, delegates appropriately, seeks guidance when necessary, and supports their staff. The past few days, you’ve done all those things and more, not accounting for your own ideas to add to the mix. You haven’t run things like a dictatorship when you really could have, and you showed gratitude.” She drew a deep breath and exhaled. “Coordinated effort, Graham.”

He was silent so long, she wondered if he’d fallen asleep from an adrenaline crash. She lifted her head, and found him staring at her.

She couldn’t read his expression, other than he appeared contemplative. Emerald eyes searched hers for an extended breadth. His jaw ticked. Otherwise, he remained motionless, and it was beginning to unnerve her if not for the uncanny, strange sensation he was burrowing in her head. Dissecting. Infiltrating.

They’d spent immeasurable time together the past few days. He’d proven her first impression false and that he was a decent person. Honestly, he just seemed like a fish out of water. She hadn’t an inkling what had brought him to their tiny little town, but she found she really wanted the answer. Get to know him. Understand what made him tick. His motives and desires. Her friends liked him. If he had Forest’s stamp of approval, Graham had to be solid.

Not for the first time, his scent invaded her space. Bergamot or something akin to it. Citrus and spice. Clean, refreshing. Masculine without being overpowering. Like him, really. Or what she’d gathered thus far. Stirrings of attraction rose again, just as they’d done periodically since they’d met, but she let it settle this time. Analyzed.

Oh, he was a looker. Midnight hair and scruff dusting his jaw. Lashes that were an unlawful waste on a male. Firm lips that could decimate when he grinned. Which wasn’t often. Angular face. Wide shoulders. His hands, though. A weakness of hers, a man’s hands. There was something erringly sexy about them. The size, the strength, whether they could be gentle or commanding. She’d bet he knew how to use his for pleasure.

It had been way too long since she’d had a lover.

The last thing she needed to be doing was lusting after her boss. Some emotions couldn’t be helped, though. Like attraction. For the sake of sanity, she’d try. They had caution written all over them.

And he was still staring.

Plucky began chirping another song quietly from the newsroom. She’d already grown used to him because his singing had become white noise today.

She cleared her throat. “Something wrong?”

A slow shake of his head, yet Graham said squat.

Struggling, she tried to conjure something, anything to say to fill the silence. It was becoming its own entity. “We have some of those large black wire basket stands upstairs.” She didn’t know what they were previously used for, but they had legs and were about three feet high. “Since we’re only doing Monday through Friday editions, we can line the baskets on the floor inside the window, one for each day of the week, and put the unsold previous week’s edition in them for half off. In case someone missed an issue and wants to catch up.”

“Mmm hmm.” His gaze searched hers. Again. Or still. “Your brain never stops, does it?”

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